Out Of The Cold
by PineappleIce
Summary: HPHG. After OotP, sometime in sixth year, Hermione confronts Harry about what is bothering him. One-shot.


"Harry!"

Harry Potter was sitting beside the lake, the chill breeze rustling his hair and inclining him to hug his knees tightly. It blew a fine, hazy mist off the surface of the lake. The sky was a threatening gunmetal colour which promised rain. Harry's head was lowered, his bright green eyes staring intently at the lake. He was dressed in torn jeans, old sneakers and a thin jacket. He shivered, and pulled the jacket closer.

"Harry!"

He knew that voice. An angel's voice, one full of hope, innocence, warmth. Things which didn't exist in Harry's world anymore. He turned his head to see Hermione Granger hurrying towards him, waving and smiling. The sixteen year old Hermione was a girl of average height, fairly slim, with an agreeable face, long wavy brown hair, and a beautiful smile. Harry always noticed her smile. It made him tingle, and he had never worked out why.

"Harry, what are you doing out here?" she asked gently, looking down at him.

"Thinking."

He didn't look up at her. If he had done, he would have seen her eyes widen to reveal they sadness they contained. Her mouth streched as though she was going to cry. But she hid this from Harry, and her voice was perfectly smooth when she spoke.

"That's all you ever seem to do these days."

"Well, it needs to be done," he replied indifferently.

He heard her exhale sharply, and looked up, wondering if she was in pain. The look in her eyes told him that he had hurt her.

"Hermione, please, just leave me alone," Harry said softly, looking back at the lake, unable to look at her face.

He was surprised at the blunt, simple answer he received.

"No."

Hermione sat down next to him, and he looked at her. Her eyes were dark with defiance, her lips in a pretty little pout. He turned back to the lake.

"Go away, Hermione," he hissed. "This is my battle."

"Your battle is my battle," she said emotionally, and he felt surprised as her warm, trembling hand covered one of his own, cold ones.

The warmth from her hand seemed to travel into his, travelling up his arm, into his chest, surrounding his heart. He could almost feel safe, loved, if only it wasn't for that prophecy niggling his brain, flowing in his blood.

"No," he whispered, gently shaking her hand off.

"Harry, there's something you have told me."

The prophecy. Of course she didn't need to tell him that. Of course he hadn't told her.

The look on his face told her she was right. "Tell me."

"No."

"Why not?" she demanded, trying to sound firm, but her eyes were wet and bright with unspilled tears.

"Because..." he trailed off, finding it hard to locate the right words. "It's like this; say your happiness was a crystal vase in my hand. It's up to me to keep it shattering. If I tell you, it's like dropping the vase, and watching it smash into a million pieces."

"That's wrong," she whispered, a tear rolling down her face.

"What is?" he asked hollowly.

"You may be right about my happiness being a vase in your hand, Harry. But it isn't up to you to stop it shattering. And I don't really care if it shatters, so long as I know what is bothering you."

"Hermione, there's a curse, a prophecy. In the end- me and Voldemort- one of us has to kill the other one... in the end."

There; he had said it. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, but he felt an incredible relief. It was no longer just his burden. He knew she would help him through it, her hand on his face, wiping his tears away, told him that. He looked at her. She looked shocked, stricken, yet she wore a reassuring smile.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered.

Their eyes held each other steadily, and Harry felt something stir in his chest. Something he wanted, something he had to do, was kiss her. He slowly leaned forward, and she raised her head. Their lips touched, and it was in that moment, in that brief, gentle kiss, that Harry knew Hermione really was going to share the burden.

Hermione pulled out of his embrace, and stood up. She held her hand down to him. "Come in out of the cold."

Harry smiled, and took her hand, pulling himself up. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked towards the castle. He wasn't alone anymore.


End file.
